Underside of the tortoise, frozen in the nitrogen night, blinking white as it flips like a coin in the air. Spear through sky, spear through the break in the black that trails the turtle's spiral. Catching up with the slow gloom that dies in his eyes, touching his belly like a flame licking frost. Sea creatures exploding over the desert, watery fireworks splash over us in our sleep.

Hey, that was an attempt to beat blogger's block. So. It's been a little while...

Things have been slow here. I'm steadily learning more and more in Logistics, though, and have been able to do some actual work. For instance, yesterday I spent several hours painting numbers on some new motorcycles that will be sent to a site in Shabunda. Since it has been established that I will be going to work in Kalemie, my time here has naturally begun to feel temporary-- the prelude to my real Congo experience. With that perspective, it's been frustrating not knowing exactly when I will be departing. There are issues with housing availability there (Currently, there is no room for me).  So, I am looking at possibly another month before I leave. Feeling in-transit is a little unnerving, along with the advisement that I spend this time learning. When told simply "to learn", I don't know how to react. How do I study French for a month? How much more can I know about the slew of forms used to send/receive/purchase goods? I want to have a job. To have work to do when I come into the office up until I leave. Living with this awkward uncertainty is a learning experience, in-and-of itself.  

I can't let this frustration become depression and stop me from learning all that I need for Kalemie. Potentially, I am resolving some serious issues that I haven't had to deal with before.

Another struggle has been adjusting to my unrequested limelight as a white person in Congo. When walking down the street in Bukavu, I seriously feel like half the city is staring at me. I hear "Mzungu" and I hear "You don't belong here!" All-too aware of the harsh poverty that these people are suffering in, and having it literally staring at me wherever I go, I have felt condemned. My body is a display case, my heart beating selfishness, arrogance for all to see. It is true that the faces looking at me are simply curious, not judgmental. I condemn myself: What will you do about their suffering? How can you take seconds and thirds, while people starve just outside your door? Why should you be rich and they be poor? Questions that I don't dare answer. How can I face such a responsibility as caring for another person?

It seemed, before I left America, many people thought of my upcoming work as mission work. And me as a missionary. However, I have known all along that in my heart I don't have the capacity to give of myself. This is why I came, this is my "mission": to go to the edge of self-sufficiency and comfort and to see what the opposite looks like and how I will respond. Here, I will either throw up my hands and turn my back or I will step off that edge. Imagining that descent is sickening and tiring. I know that I will be faced with many questions that won't ever go away.